into the glory. It
poured around her in a rosy splendour, lighting her pale, tired face.
For several minutes she stood drinking in the beauty of it, with a
feeling at her heart as of unshed tears.

Then at last with a long sigh she slowly turned, and moved across to a
row of bookshelves. Perhaps there was light enough for her purpose
after all. She began to search along the backs of the books with her
face close to them.

"Are you looking for Farrow's _Treatise on Party Government_ by any
chance?" asked a leisurely voice behind her.

She sprang round as if a gun had been discharged in the room. She stared
widely, feeling back against the bookshelves for support.

He was lounging on the edge of the table immediately facing her--a
square strong figure, with hands in his pockets, the red light of the
sunset turning his hair to fire.

"Because if you are," he continued, a note of grim humour in his voice,
"I'm afraid you won't find it--to-night. What's the matter with you,
fair lady? You don't seem quite pleased to see me."

"I am pleased," she whispered. "I am pleased."

But her voice was utterly gone. Her throat worked spasmodically. She put
up both hands to it as if she were choking.

He stood up abruptly and came to her. He took her hands and drew them
gently away. "I shall begin to think I'm bad for you if you do that," he
said. "What's the matter, child? Did I frighten you?"

"No!" she whispered back. "No! It was only--only--"

"Only--" he said. "Look here! You mustn't cry. It's one better than
fainting, I admit; but I'm not going to let you do either if I can help
it. Come over here to the window!"

He led her unresisting, one steady arm upholding her.

"Do you know," he said, "a curious thing happened just now? I'd only
been in the house twenty minutes or so when, coming downstairs to look
for you, I discovered a letter in the hall addressed to me. I took the
liberty of opening and reading it, in spite of the fact that it was
plainly intended for the post." He paused. "I thought that would make
you angry," he observed, looking down at her critically.

She uttered a desperate little laugh and tried to disengage herself from
his arm. "No, I'm glad you've got it," she said rather breathlessly.

"It was a very silly letter," remarked Max, calmly frustrating the
attempt. "It didn't say half it might have said, and what it did say
wasn't to the point."

"Yes, it was," she maintained quickly. "It--it--I